


you forgot this

by kyaasnow



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Ballet Dancer Katsuki Yuuri, Holidays, M/M, Violinist Victor Nikiforov, reverse au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 08:29:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12883989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyaasnow/pseuds/kyaasnow
Summary: Viktor spends the Nutcracker season pining after one Katsuki Yuuri. From afar.





	you forgot this

**Author's Note:**

> Because I love doing things people tell me I can't.
> 
> Unbetaed.

It wasn’t anything new.  Viktor had been playing with the ballet company’s orchestra for over a year now, and there were always good-looking dancers.  The visiting dancers were always a treat — not that Viktor ever made a move on any of them, much less even speak to them.  Georgi, on the other hand, had no problem dating any dancer who’d give him the time of day… and falling completely in love with them, only to be devastated when the fling came to an end.

Upon deeper thought, Viktor really didn’t envy Georgi his love life at all.

He did, however, envy the ballerina that Yuuri Katsuki was currently lifting on stage.

Viktor sighed wistfully.  He had heard that Yuuri Katsuki (Katsuki Yuuri, he corrected himself in his head) from Japan was a visiting dancer for the Nutcracker season, and had been just as starstruck as everyone else.  After all, who hadn’t been following his career since he won at the Youth Grand Prix at age 17?  Who, in the performance world, didn’t have at least one poster of him in their room?

(Viktor had three — two on his bedroom wall, and the other, a smaller, discreet one, in the main living area, so both he and his roommate Christophe could admire that beautiful face while they ate dinner in front of the TV.)

Anyhow, knowing that Yuuri was here and actually  _seeing_ him on stage and just 20 feet away from Viktor’s face where he sat in the orchestra pit were two different things.  Like this, he was more palpable.  Like Viktor could reach out and touch him.

“Stop sighing,” Georgi murmured from next to Viktor.  “If you want to speak to him, just find him after break.”

“ _Speak_  to him?” Viktor echoed.  “But he’s  _Katsuki Yuu_ —”

“And looking at you right now,” Georgi broke in.

Viktor’s gaze snapped back to the stage, but Yuuri was watching the other dancers warm up, arms crossed delightfully across his chest.

“Don’t do that to me,” he said to Georgi.  “You know I hate that type of thing.”

Georgi glanced up.  “I wasn’t joking.  He really was looking here.”

“Sure.”  Viktor frowned and returned to arranging his music on his stand and playing scales on his violin.

The first Nutcracker rehearsal went on as usual.  A few stops and starts.  Lilia Ivanovna correcting her dancers from her front row seat.  Trumpets needing to be returned every ten minutes.  In other words, chaos.

Yuuri happened to be called out the most by the ballet mistress.  Viktor had been around long enough to know this means he is one of her favorites.

Him and the other Yuri, the apprentice.  (The difference between them was noticeable, not just because Lilia addressed Yuri as “Yuri Plisetsky,” but also because whenever Apprentice Yuri was scolded, a  _sotto voce_ Russian curse rumbled somewhere on the stage.)

Rehearsal ended with Viktor having spent only 43% of rehearsal time staring dreamily at Yuuri Katsuki.  This was an accomplishment, he figured, seeing as, well, Yuuri was even more attractive in person than he was on film or on his posters.

So Viktor went cheerily to dinner with Georgi and then sat home with Makkachin and watched TV while waiting for Chris to get back from his burlesque show.

He had, however, forgotten how late Chris’s work went.  And he was halfway to sleep by the time Chris entered the apartment humming.

“Viktor,” he drawled.  “What are you doing here?  I would have thought you’d be in bed.”

Viktor yawned and stretched, allowing Makkachin to crawl over him to go greet Chris.

“I have something to tell you,” he said.  “How was work?”

“Good.  Tall, Dark, and Handsome was in the audience again tonight.”

Viktor quirked an eyebrow.  “Haven’t you been on two dates with him now?  Can’t we call him by his name?”

“Sweet Viktor, he is only Frédéric when we’re out together.  He’s Tall, Dark, and Handsome when he’s at the club.  It makes him seem more mysterious and sexy.”  Chris slung his coat and scarf on top of the pile of garments on their coatrack and then scooted Viktor’s feet off the couch so he could sit.

“Well, then,” Viktor began, folding his hands in his lap.  “Speaking of sexy, I saw Yuuri Katsuki today.”

 _This_ appeared to catch Chris off-guard.  His eyes darted towards their Yuuri poster above the television.

“Seriously?” Chris asked.  “Is he even hotter close up?  Did you talk to him?”

“Yes, he’s super hot, and no, of course I didn’t talk to him!”

Chris deflated.  “What the hell.  You’re in the same room as the most beautiful ballet dancer on this earth, and you said  _nothing_?  Not even hi?”

Viktor folded his arms.  “I don’t get involved with dancers, Chris.”

His roommate wiggled his eyebrows.  “Who said anything about getting involved?  I simply asked if you’d said hello.”

“We all know that your mind is permanently in the gutter.”

“And yours isn’t?  Mr. ‘That’s Just a Milk Stain on Yuuri’s  _Don Quixote_  Poster’?”

“It was!” Viktor launched a pillow at Chris’s face.  Their pillows were so old (hand-me-downs from Viktor’s grandmother upon his move) that they actually hurt.  Chris knew this, and ducked out of the way just in time.  It grazed his shoulder.

“You’re a loser,” Chris said.  “I should come to your next rehearsal.  I’d certainly give Yuuri a quite friendly hello.”

“If you want to get thrown out by Lilia Baranovskaya, then help yourself.”

With a noncommittal grunt, Chris clambered off the couch and circled around to grab something out of the fridge in the kitchenette.  “I’m just saying,” he sang.  “You’re going to regret it if the Nutcracker season ends and you haven’t spoken to him even once.  I’m sure he doesn’t bite.”  Then, with a heavy laugh, Chris turned around and winked.  “Or maybe he does, and you’ll be in luck.”

Viktor threw another pillow, but Chris was already shutting the door to his bedroom.

Trust Chris to make everything sexual.

Though.

Viktor peered at the poster above the TV.  It was one from a sports magazine last spring, in black and white and heavily contrasted to show Yuuri’s perfect lines.  He was in front of a window, at a barre, executing a perfect arabesque.  Leg up high, arm extended.  He had on tight leggings and no shirt.  All the better to admire the cut of his muscles.

His face, though.  Soft despite the sharpness of his body.  Warm and concentrated.

And Viktor got to see it in real life.

He sped to his room, gave a quick apology to Makka as he locked her out, and set to ensuring he didn’t leave any more “milk” stains on his posters.

****

The most curious thing about seeing Yuuri Katsuki in the flesh now was seeing him as, well, a human.  Little glimpses of his personality peeking out here and there.  His bright smile when chatting with Phichit Chulanont, whom Yuuri knew from their time as students with the Royal Ballet.  The glasses he wore when showing up to rehearsal and leaving.  The way he quietly avoided fans after performances, weaving through the crowd in a kitten-ear hat and wandering down the street.  Viktor wondered where he went every night.  Straight home?  Meeting friends for drinks?  Did he have a side job?  (No, probably not.  He was a Soloist, and had plenty of sponsorships and such.  Did other dancers envy him?)

Viktor did not speak to him.  Still.  He’d had plenty of pressure from both Georgi and Chris (Chris had threatened to hunt Yuuri down and shove Viktor into him after the December 19th performance — Viktor had been, for once, thankful for Yuuri’s crowd evasion technique) but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.  When would he have a chance to talk to Yuuri Katsuki anyway?  In the green room as Viktor walked through it to get to the orchestra pit?  During intermission?  After the performance, grabbing his arm as he tried to shuffle away without being seen by anyone? Or—

Here.  After the December 24th performance.  In the hall between the green room and the elevators up to the theater lobby.

Viktor’s breath caught in his throat.

Yuuri, there.  Yuuri Katsuki’s hand on Viktor’s arm, burning through the wool of his coat.  Yuuri Katsuki’s eyes, brown and round, looking directly at Viktor.

“You forgot this,” Yuuri murmured.

It took Viktor a moment to realize Yuuri had let go of him and was now holding something out to him in his other hand.  A maroon folder with the company’s logo on the front.  Viktor’s folder of music.

“Oh,” Viktor responded articulately.  “Thank you.”  He took the folder.

“I, uh.”  Yuuri glanced away briefly.  “I noticed you set it down on a chair back there but as I was leaving I saw you’d left it.”

A ball stuck in Viktor’s throat.  He swallowed it down hard, leaving his mouth impossibly dry.

“Thanks,” he croaked again.  Yuuri Katsuki?  Looking at him when he didn’t realize it?  Yuuri Katsuki saw him and sought him out?

“Thought it was important,” Yuuri said, hunching over adorably.  “You’ve been doing a great job.  You guys, I mean!  The orchestra.”

His cheeks went pink.  It was the cutest thing Viktor had ever seen in his entire almost-25 years of living.

“Thanks,” Viktor said, feeling confident now that Yuuri Katsuki was blushing right in front of him.  “You’ve done amazing.  The best Nutcracker Prince I’ve ever seen.”

“I don’t know about that.”  Yuuri ruffled his hair.  It was still gelled back, so his movement left the strands sticking out haphazardly.

 _Adorable_.

“It’s true.  I’ve seen The Nutcracker almost every year for as long as I can remember.  I’m Russian.”  He held out his hand.  “I’m Viktor Nikiforov.”

“Oh,” Yuuri said, before seeming to catch himself.  “A very Russian name.  I’m Katsuki Yuu—well, you know that already.”

Viktor grinned.  “But we haven’t been properly introduced.”

After a brief moment, Yuuri shook his hand.  “I’m Katsuki Yuuri.  Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

The two of them stood there, smiling awkwardly, before Yuuri shook his head.

“Sorry, I should get going.  It’s Christmas Eve, you probably have plans,” Yuuri mumbled.

Viktor shrugged.  “Not much.  Just attempting to roast a chicken with my roommate and his kind-of boyfriend and marathoning  _Love Actually_.  We don’t celebrate Christmas on December 25th in Russia, so it’s whatever.”  He took a deep breath.  “And, what plans do you have?”

That gorgeous blush graced Yuuri’s cheekbones again.

“Nothing.  My friend Phichit is going to a party, but I’m not really a party person, so—”

“Great!” Viktor exclaimed.  His lack of impulse control was making itself apparent tonight.  “Why don’t you come watch us roast a chicken, then?  Or just watch the movie.  And get upset with Laura Linney for messing up her date?”

There was a long moment during which Viktor realized he’d probably just made the dumbest mistake ever.  Asking Yuuri Katsuki, whom he didn’t even know, and whom he’d idolized for years, to come over to his apartment?

But then Yuuri smiled, soft and brilliant, and said, “Okay.”

The two of them left the theater, Viktor in a haze of surreality.

Until they got in the taxi, and he sent a hasty text to Chris.

_SOS. Take down the Yuuri poster in the living room. NOT A DRILL._


End file.
